


Comrade

by rainsoakedshoes



Series: 30 Days of Sterek [26]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Bickering, Bilingual Character(s), Escape, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Violence, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsoakedshoes/pseuds/rainsoakedshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long fingers gripped Derek’s chin hard and forced Derek to look up. Derek looked into the honey coloured eyes of the guard. He was younger than the other two, but obviously their superior from the way they acted around him. <br/>“Who are you working with?” The honey eyed guard asked. <br/>“Fuck you,” Derek said, his upper lip curling up into a snarl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comrade

**Author's Note:**

> Day 26 - Comrade  
> dialogue in italics indicate that the guards are speaking Russian.

Derek grunted in pain as the guard delivered another backhanded slap to his face.

They were trying to get information out of him, but they had strict orders not to hurt him too badly. They needed him alive. For now.

The longer Derek held his silence, the greater the risk that the guards would give up and put a bullet in his head became.

_“Who are you working with?”_ The guard asked again.

“Fuck you,” Derek said through clenched teeth. He had given up all pretence of speaking Russian. His cover was blown. If he was going to be tortured then he was going to piss them off and speak English.

The door to the small cell opened and another man entered, the sound of his boots on the concrete floor echoed off the walls and ceiling.

Derek kept his eyes trained on the floor.

The two guards who had been interrogatingDerek backed away from him.

_“Has he said anything yet?”_ The newcomer asked.

_“No,”_ the first guard said.

_“But he will,”_ the seconded added.

Long fingers gripped Derek’s chin hard and forced Derek to look up. Derek looked into the honey coloured eyes of the guard. He was younger than the other two, but obviously their superior from the way they acted around him.

_“Who are you working with?”_ The honey eyed guard asked.

“Fuck you,” Derek said, his upper lip curling up into a snarl.

The young guard laughed and let go of Derek’s face. He straightened up and smoothed out the non-existent creases on his coat.

The guard delivered a swift right hook to Derek’s left cheek, then turned around to address his fellow guards.

_“Let me have a few moments with our guest,”_ he said with a smile. _“I will get him to talk.”_

It was a command thinly veiled as a request, and the two other guards obeyed. They closed the door behind themselves, leaving Derek and the guard alone.

The guard turned back around to face Derek; Derek spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. The guard produced a knife from the pocket of his coat and knelt down in front of Derek.

The knife blade sliced through the rope tying Derek’s right wrist to the chair easily.

“You didn’t have to hit me so hard, Stiles,” Derek complained.

“I had to make it look good,” Stiles replied as he cut through the rope restraining Derek’s left wrist. There was no trace of Russian in his accent.

Derek rubbed his sore wrists and Stiles cut through the rope around Derek’s ankles. “You could have pulled the punch. I would have still reacted like you’d hit me as hard as possible. If I have a broken cheekbone because of you,” Derek trailed off shaking his head.

Stiles stood back up and pocketed his knife. He took Derek’s chin between his fingers again; much more gently this time. “It’ll be a hairline fracture at most, calm down. You’ve had worse.”

Derek pushed Stiles away and stood up as well.

“Now let’s go surprise some of my Comrades,” Stiles said, a devilish grin on his face. “We should be able to get out of the building okay if they don’t notice you missing. Once we hit the yard we’ll definitely have to fight.” He produced a hand gun from his coat pocket and handed it to Derek. “Getting you out is going to blow my cover.”

Stiles walked over and opened the door, he checked to make sure the corridor was clear, then nodded for Derek to follow him.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Derek said sarcastically. “That my life interferes with your cover. A cover that you wouldn’t have even had if it wasn’t for me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles demanded. They were moving through the corridor with their backs to each other; watching each other’s six.

“What that _means_ is the only reason you got promoted so rapidly is because of the information I was supplying and the strings I was pulling. Do you think the Russians usually promote twenty five year old kids like that? The only reason you didn’t get gunned down your first week in the compound is because of _me_.”  

“I’m twenty seven.” Stiles checked that the cross corridor they had come to was clear before they continued. “You know that. _And_ all that doesn’t change the fact that you getting caught just ruined fourteen months of deep cover.”

“We have all the information we needed! We should have been extracted three months ago, but oh no! You managed to convince the higher ups that there was more we could learn!”

“I didn’t hear you arguing when I requested to stay on! In fact I remember you saying ‘good idea Stiles!’.”

“I definitely did not say that.”

There was shouting from the direction they had come, and a siren started to blare through the building.

“Times up!” Stiles shouted. “And you did say that!”

The two men started sprinting down the corridor. They came to another cross corridor and a guard, obviously inexperienced, was pointing his gun at them. Stiles was still in his military uniform and the naive guard didn’t want to open fire on a superior.

Derek hit the guard with an elbow to the face, then relieved him of his weapon. Derek tucked the handgun into his waistband, opting to use the guards’ larger automatic weapon.

Stiles and Derek continued to run. They could see the doors leading outside.

“ _If_ I said that it was after I’d had too much vodka!” Derek shouted.

There were footsteps pounding on the concrete behind them. Russian guards were yelling at them to stop.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Stiles shook his head. “This is exactly like Qatar all over again.”

They burst through the doors and instantly dove to the left as they were greeted with gunfire.

Taking refuge behind a jeep Stiles and Derek took turns firing at the guards who were trying to kill them. A smoke grenade came flying over the jeep and landed at Derek’s feet. Without hesitation Derek picked it up and lobbed it back before it could go off.

Stiles dug through his coat and handed Derek a real grenade. “This might be more useful.”

“Thanks.” Derek pulled the pin with his teeth and chucked it over the jeep. He and Stiles braced for the explosion. Derek wondered what else Stiles had hidden in that coat of his; he looked a lot bulkier than usual.

The grenade going off gave them enough time to start running again.

They were hopelessly out numbered, but they had surprise on their side, and not all the guards would be available to fight. Some had to stay behind to actually guard the other prisoners.

“What do you mean this is Qatar again?” Derek demanded. “I remember Qatar going so much more smoothly.”

“Exactly!” Stiles exclaimed. He fired on two guards who had rounded the corner and were coming at them; both went down quickly. “It went smoothly because of my plan! Then you refused to acknowledge it was a good plan!”

They were still experiencing heavy fire from the rear, but they were getting close to the extraction point.

“It was dumb luck things went smoothly in Qatar!” Derek yelled. “I’m the reason we got out of there alive!”

“You mean your cock is the only reason we got out of there alive!” Stiles countered. “Fucking that diplomat’s daughter was a nice touch! I’m glad you foresaw how beneficial it would be!”

Stiles turned to fire over his shoulder at the guards who were gaining on them.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ are you ever going to forgive me for that?!”

Stiles cried out as a bullet hit him in the leg. Derek grabbed Stiles and pulled him around the edge of the building; he used the building as cover.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked.

“I’m fine! It just grazed me!” Stiles had been shot enough times to be able to handle the pain.

The sound of chopper blades tore their gaze from each other to the sky. A black, unmarked helicopter was preparing to land just inside the compound.

“Looks like our ride is here,” Stiles grinned.

Derek held onto Stiles as they sprinted away from the building and to the helicopter. The Russian guards fired on them again, but this time they had cover from the helicopters gunman.

Two sets of strong hands pulled Derek and Stiles into the helicopter; they were taking off again before the two men were fully inside the chopper.

There was a medic on board who instantly turned his attention to Stiles injured leg.

Derek and Stiles sat side by side in the cramped cabin of the helicopter.

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head with a smile on his face. “I’m never going to forgive you for the diplomat’s daughter.”

Stiles opened his coat – careful not to get in the way of the medic – and pulled free several thick files. He passed them through to the man – another agent, their superior – who was sitting beside the pilot.

“This is everything I could get my hands on,” Stiles said.

The agent didn’t thank Stiles, he just took the files and started flipping through them.

“You’ll forgive me one day,” Derek said.

Stiles looked back at Derek. “I probably won’t. How’s your cheek doing?” He was sitting on Derek’s left, and he reached up and trailed his fingers lightly across the bruise blooming on Derek’s cheek.

Derek shrugged. “I’ve had worse. How’s your leg?”

Stiles looked down at his right leg where the medic was setting up to stich the wound up. “I’ve had worse. Remember Chile?”

“You will forgive me,” Derek said. “You always forgive me. You trust me too much to hold a grudge.”

Stiles looked back up at Derek. “You got a fractured cheekbone; I got shot. I think we’re even.” He still had his fingers resting against Derek’s cheek. He pulled them back and replaced them with a quick kiss. “I’ll forgive you when you admit my plans are good ones.”

The man in the front of the cockpit turned around. “Agents, if you’ve had your moment I would like to debrief you now.”

Derek and Stiles sat back and looked at their handler.

“Go ahead Agent Argent,” Derek said, managing to keep a straight face even as his mouth tripped over the alliteration.

“We’ve had this argument before,” Stiles added.

**Author's Note:**

> i had so much fun writing this. tbh i want to give this idea the 100k it deserves but i have so many other projects already.   
> u can find me on [tumblr](http://heavenlyhale.tumblr.com/)


End file.
